“And then the FBI comes in and starts asking questions.”
“Loretta didn’t deliver Eloise’s son. She couldn’t have, not in her condition. But whoever did it had some medical training. A nurse, possibly. Maybe a doctor, one in a different field who knows the basics but without specialized training.”
Siobhan walked over to them. “I just spoke with Antonio Zapelli. He said Angelo left work on Thursday at the regular time, but didn’t come in on Friday. He didn’t leave a note, just told his mother that he had to help a friend and wouldn’t be home for a few days. He’s not answering his cell phone.”
“But he has one?” Lucy asked.
“His dad said he did. I’ll call him—”
“No, not yet. I’m going to check in with Noah. We might be able to trace it.”
“But what if he’s helping Marisol—maybe he’s with her, he can let me talk to her!”
“We don’t know, Siobhan, and right now this whole thing seems fishy to me. Just wait a minute, okay?”
Siobhan didn’t want to wait, but she pocketed her phone.
Lucy glanced at Nate, and he nodded. Good. He was on the same page as she was. For some reason, she was beginning to doubt her instincts—and her compassion. She’d known almost immediately that Loretta was in bad shape, yet she interrogated her when she could have administered aid. Though, to be honest, there wasn’t much she could have done for the woman other than make sure she didn’t move around until the paramedics arrived.
Lucy dialed Noah. She wanted to search Loretta’s house now because there could be vital information in finding Marisol and the others. Noah could trace Angelo’s phone, find out when he’d come into the States, maybe even where he was staying.
This was their first real break at finding Marisol, Ana, and the others … and learning what happened to all those babies.
Seventy-two. Seventy-two babies taken from their mothers and sold.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Noah answered on the fourth ring. “Yes?”
He sounded rushed, so Lucy got to the point. “We have information from a nurse who delivered dozens of babies for Jasmine and a man named Raoul. Marisol disappeared after giving birth and hasn’t returned. She contacted a friend in Monterrey—the son of her employer—who disappeared last Friday, according to his father. That would be the day after Marisol left her baby at the church. We have his cell phone number, but I’m skeptical about giving him a heads-up that we’re looking for Marisol.”
“Why? He may know where she is.”
“Because she may run from the authorities. She’s scared, Noah. And after what happened to Siobhan on Sunday, I understand why. And honestly … why would he drop everything and come here to help her after more than two years? Without telling his father that he heard from her? Or calling Siobhan, who has made it her mission to find the girls? It’s just … I don’t know, my gut is telling me to tread carefully here. Loretta admitted to helping these people deliver seventy-two babies. Where are they? How many girls were used as breeders? What happened to them after they delivered? Were they killed or sent back into the sex trade? How many of these … these … breeder houses are around here? Marisol may have the answers.” She stopped herself. Her emotions were getting the better of her, and she had to get them under tight control or she would lose it. She felt that churning, deep down, that she was on edge.
She cleared her throat and continued matter-of-factly. “Loretta Martinez was assaulted last week after Marisol left. She couldn’t have performed the C-section on our Jane Doe in the morgue.” Eloise. “She’s on the way to the hospital. I don’t think she’s going to survive—she has extensive internal injuries and was self-medicating. But I want permission to put a guard on her door and, if she survives, to place her under arrest.”
“Talk to Villines, do what needs to be done. You’re on the right path. Villines called me a couple of hours ago, said it wasn’t urgent but wanted to talk. He might have information, but I’m sitting here waiting to talk to a judge and get an expanded warrant for that damn property management company. Hooper is on his way from Sacramento, and he’s already been a huge help with this legal bullshit.”
“Do I have probable cause to search Loretta’s house?”
“Yes, but we do this by the book. Jasmine is a lawyer. If we find anything on her and she thinks we obtained the information under duress or without a warrant, she’ll make our lives hell. I don’t want to blow this because we went the easy route.” He paused. “Did she let you into the house?”
“Yes.” Sort of. She hadn’t said no when Lucy came in.
Go away.